


Dark Paradise

by Flamme19



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Drug Use, Episode: s05e04 The End, Future Castiel, Future Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Pre-Episode: s05e04 The End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamme19/pseuds/Flamme19
Summary: An alternative view, inspired by "The End" 5x04, about what happened in the five years that went from Sam's consent to Dean's appearance in 2014.Written with the inspiration of the song Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Dark Paradise

It all started when Sam said yes. Castiel no longer remembered the details, as he had centuries of his existence. But what he remembered safely was the pain and suffering he felt through his bond with Dean. Dean refused to talk to him, driving him away, but Castiel remained, hoping that Dean would eventually let him go. 

Castiel hadn't seen Dean in weeks. He refused to leave him, but Dean literally threw him out of the room, demanding only one thing - not to visit him until Dean called. Castiel was extremely uncomfortable with the plan, but in the end he agreed. After all, there was nothing he couldn't do for Dean. And so he left, and waited patiently, remaining on Earth, refusing to return to Heaven. From several fallen angels, he heard reports of rebellions and chaos that ruled there. And Castiel didn't want to see his brothers killing each other. And so he did what had seemed so cowardly to him before, but suddenly it was so simple - he was hiding. 

Dean finally called him. Castiel was happy if it could be used in such a situation. However, when he showed up at the motel where Dean was, he immediately noticed. Dean stood at the table, cleaning several weapons. Others lay on the bed, along with maps and packed bags. 

"What's going on?" Castiel asked softly, estimating Dean's mood. 

As soon as he caught Dean's determined gaze, he knew he was about to go crazy again. He saw the look too often. 

"I won't let the bastard take Sam away from me. I'll find him and kill him. " 

"But Dean, it's…" 

"Are you coming with me or not?" 

And who was Castiel to reject Dean? 

"Of course." 

Other angels fell. Castiel perceived them, he perceived them all. He also perceived Heaven, the suffering that spread from him like a plague. He did not try to find the fallen, no one contacted him. But Castiel was happy. He didn't want to hear confirmation of his grim assumptions. 

They spent almost a year on the road. They cruised the earth, from demon to demon, trying to figure out where Lucifer might be. Castiel tried to support Dean, but he felt the distance between them increase. Dean barely spoke to him. He practically only needed it as a means of obtaining information whenever a demon was caught. But Castiel didn't mind as much as he expected. He was close to Dean, and he still hoped. 

It was Castiel's fault from the beginning, and he knew it. He had to stop Dean, force him to stop looking for Lucifer. He became obsessed with it, hardly talking about anything else. Castiel felt the tension, he knew Dean would break soon. And he couldn't allow that. And so he tried to tell him the whole plan, to persuade him to abandon the futile search. They argued, there was so much shouting. And then Dean hit him. Castiel fell to the ground, all he could feel was severe pain. It wasn't the last time Dean had hit him, but Castiel had remembered this for too long. It was the first time he noticed that the pain felt too much, that he was bleeding, that his wound did not heal fast enough. It was the first time Castiel had realized that Heaven was closing in on him. 

It happened during the second year. They got into another fight, they both took the scars. When they finally got rid of the demons, Dean waved for him to help him and heal him. Castiel wanted so much. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he prayed, nothing happened. He was sitting on the ground, in the dust and dirt of a sunken alley, and all he could do was cry when he realized he had lost the last pinch of grace. Through his tears, he looked at Dean, who was measuring him with a dubious look. And then he stood up, and limped to Impala. Castiel remained seated on the ground, unable to process what had just happened. Why? Why did Dean look at him like that? And why did he leave him here? Thoughts were interrupted by the receding roar of the engine that told Castiel the thing. It happened, what he had always feared so much. Be helpless, in a strange place, and alone. Castiel crawled carefully into the corner of the alley, gripping his angel's blade tightly in his hands, the last thing that could protect him. 

Dean came back for him. Castiel was still in place, refusing to move, afraid to draw attention. It occurred to him that he had been sitting on the cold ground for hours. Fatigue and injury eventually forced him to sleep, which was interrupted by the sound of an oncoming car. Castiel awoke with a start, trying unsuccessfully to hide. And then Dean appeared. He reached for Castiel, helped him to his feet, led him to the car, helped him inside. Castiel turned to him, wanting to thank him. But when he saw the same condemning look, he preferred to remain silent. It was suddenly too clear to him why Dean was treating him like that. As a human, Dean was useless in his search. He couldn't heal him, help him fight the demons, or fight Lucifer, which Dean had told him so many times. So he bowed his head and waited for what would happen next. 

Castiel hated being human. He was so pathetic, useless, vulnerable. He was everything Dean probably thought of him. Castiel saw it in his gaze whenever he checked his wounds from the last fight, or whenever Castiel had to take painkillers. He hardly spoke to him, except for a few health questions. And Castiel didn't try to talk. 

Painkillers were the first thing Castiel liked about humanity. Whenever he took them, he felt better. The pain, not just physical, subsided, at least to the point that Castiel could look at himself in the mirror. These were days when everything was gradually getting a little foggy, and sometimes he wasn't even sure what day it was. But it didn't matter. All it took for Castiel was that he could indulge in a few hours of calm, thinking of nothing. It was calm, peaceful, almost like Heaven used to be. 

Castiel's painkillers were gone. This was one of the other moments Castiel remembered all too well. He looked everywhere for the little bottle, hoping he hadn't lost it anywhere. And in the end, the search led him to Dean. They argued again, Dean shouting at him. There was so much anger in it. Even though he was no longer an angel, he could feel her digesting him like a poison. He didn't want to hear about how pathetic he was. That it's useless. That he is addicted, that he disappointed. And so he ran away. He had no idea where. It was night, the city was busy, beating with nightlife. Castiel roamed the streets, strangely numb to all the threats he would have perceived around him. And so he got to the local club. Castiel barely knew how he ended up drinking beer while talking to a local drug dealer. But it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the small bottle he had received and carefully tucked in his pocket in exchange for the money he had stolen from Dean. It was time for remorse later. 

Castiel sometimes wondered when Dean, his Dean, the man with such a beautiful and pure soul, had become this blood-retaliating monster. Dean walked for hours, sometimes days, returning from blood, wounded. Castiel didn't have to ask, he didn't want to know anything. Castiel took Dean's absence as a chance to gain time for himself, as he began to call the whole thing familiar. It was the only time he had been surrounded by merciful silence, and he had not heard any more plans for revenge, or the sound of weapons loading, or felt the reproachful look in his back. 

Castiel always knew that his view of humanity was truly naive. From the behavior of the people he loved to look at from Heaven to the sight of what the human body could endure. And that led him here, to another dirty cheap hotel, who knows where. Another memory Castiel remembered very clearly. Dean left, without words Castiel hadn't waited long ago. So Castiel crawled into bed, took his beloved medicine from his bag, and poured a few into his palm. He was so tired, out of the way, of that humanity, of all the feelings that rolled over him like an avalanche. He didn't count how many of those little pills he had swallowed in the end. He tossed the bottle back into the bag, closed his eyes. And he waited. That beautiful feeling of numbness came so soon, and it was so strong. But Castiel could only smile. He didn't mind, on the contrary. It was Heaven, small and fake, but it was only his. 

Scream. Terrible, loud, and so annoying. That was what woke him up. That, and the pain, strangely intertwined with the unrelenting numbness that enveloped his mind. Castiel had no idea at the time, nor could he. But that was the first time he had overdosed. 

Dean's anger was like a cold shower. As he sat on the bed, knocking under several blankets, Dean rebuked him for everything. His carelessness, stubbornness. His misery. Castiel was silent. Dean didn't say anything he didn't know about himself. But then Dean asked where he'd gotten all the money for, and Castiel froze. And Dean must have noticed. He grabbed Castiel by the T-shirt and pulled him relentlessly closer. 

"Where did you get that shit ?!" 

Castiel just shook his head, trying his best to get away, but in vain. 

"Speak!" 

"No!" 

"Castiel, speak!" 

Hearing your full name was like kicking in the stomach. Dean never used it! But over time, more things Castiel could admit seemed to change. 

"Tell me now! You said you were done with that crap! What else did you lie to me about, huh ?! Where did you get it? Are you fucking someone for money ?! ” 

Castiel could only stare blankly, refusing to admit what Dean had just said. Did you really think that about him? That he dropped so low? That he was so pathetic? 

And that was the first time Castiel had any idea what he had to do with this man. He got up without a word, and before Dean could say anything, he ran out of the room. 

Another bar, another alcohol. In retrospect, Castiel could never remember how he had found such places, or how he had known which of all the people could sell him what he wanted. Probably the only poor talent he had as a human being. But he was here, in a sunken bar, sitting in one of the boxes, holding his Heaven in his hand, sitting next to a man who apparently didn't want money in return. Castiel felt the man's hand wrapped tightly around his shoulders, but all he could think about was Dean's hurtful words. The last pinch of faith he had in the man was gone, as was all hope that one day it would all be better again. 

"So, you're not coming with me? I have an apartment near here. " 

Did Castiel really nod? It was possible. He was numb, drunk, and he didn't care. He was taken to a parking lot leading to a nearby car. But before he could to get inside, the man next to him disappeared. Castiel turned his head slowly, seeing Dean grabbing the man and beating. He knew he should stop him. it was certain that if no one did, he would beat the man to death. But Castiel didn't care. Dean was here, and that must have meant something, didn't it? 

"Answer me!" 

Did Dean talk to him? What happened? And how did he find himself on the ground? 

"Can you walk? Come on, we have to get out of here! ” 

Castiel was taken to the nearby Impale, his head full of questions he couldn't put into words. The journey was fast, quiet, as was the return to the room. Dean dragged him to bed, and before Castiel could even try to say something, Dean hugged him. Castiel didn't understand what was going on. Why was Dean suddenly so kind to him? 

"Dean… What's going on?" 

"Never do this again," Dean muttered in his ear, holding him tighter. "You're the only thing I have here. I can't lose you. Not after I lost everything else. Just no. I won't let you go. " 

If Castiel were fully conscious, or if he could ever admit that the one who hugged him was no longer his Dean, he would be aware of the darkness behind those words. But now Castiel didn't care. Dean was here, wanting him with him, and all he could do was hug Dean back. 

It was the third year. Mankind was plagued by Croatoan's disease, there were so many deaths around. Dean was no longer driving around, looking for information. They settled in the Chitaqua camp, along with other survivors determined to fight Lucifer. Dean became the leader of the group, Castiel took refuge in the background. The neighborhood was not very valid unless it was a fight in which he received training. The group was diverse. Former hunters, a few people with military training, a few women. Castiel noticed with strange displeasure that it was the women who became Dean's number two interest, right after Lucifer was killed. Castiel never spoke on the subject, he didn't want to deal with Dean's anger. He had quickly learned over the past year that whenever he heard his full name, it only led to trouble. So he withdrew into the background, doing what he was told, and spent the rest of his free time, unless he was Dean's obedient soldier, in a haze of numbness. It wasn't just painkillers a long time ago, but it didn't matter to Castiel. He was surrounded by alcohol, drugs, and eventually women. If Dean could do it, he could do it, especially if it dampened the pain he felt every day. It was better when he didn't feel anything. 

Dean was like a coin. He had a side that Castiel hated from the depths of his human-angelic soul. Full of anger, aggression, and disinterest in the suffering of others. He saw it too often. Execution of infected diseases in front of others, torture of people and demons for information not only about Lucifer, but also about the legendary Colt. And in the end, he saw it, even though it was two of them, especially when Dean said he did something he didn't have. He knew that Dean condemned the lifestyle he had resorted to. That he thought he was just wasting time in a haze of drugs, instead of running around and torturing some demons with Dean. But Castiel didn't care about this anymore. He knew full well that his life was fast coming to an end. Neither could survive the battle with Lucifer. So why not enjoy those few days? But no matter how many times he tried to explain it, Dean didn't understand. They argued. Castiel really disliked this period. They argued often, a lot, the whole camp knew about it. Dean dictated his dictatorial rules, and Castiel rebelled against them. And then came another expedition. 

Castiel may have been careless. He didn't remember how it happened. At one moment he followed Dean, at another he lay on the ground, pressed to the ground by a demon determined to snatch his throat. Dean saved him at the last moment. They returned immediately to the camp, and Castiel ended up in the infirmary, beaten, bloodied, counting down the time. As soon as Dean appeared in the doorway and drove everyone else out, Castiel retreated to the corner of the bed where he lay, praying that it wouldn't be long. Another shout, more remorse, more accusations. Castiel was so damn tired of it. And so he did the only thing that occurred to him. 

"You know what? Go to hell, Dean. I am not your property. " 

It was the first time Castiel had said such a thing, and he knew immediately that he had crossed the invisible line between them. Before he could think of anything to calm the situation, Dean jumped on the bed, his arms tightened around Castiel's neck. 

"I didn't hear that," Dean hissed, leaning close to Castiel. "I already told you then, at that bar. You're mine, and you're not going anywhere until I let it. " 

Castiel tried to fight, but he knew it was in vain. The more he rebelled, the more the grip tightened. And so he did all he could. He gave up. 

Dean… 

"Do you understand?" 

Castiel nodded shakily, gripping Dean's wrist tightly. 

"Say it!" 

"Yes…" 

Dean released his grip, and Castiel took a deep breath. 

"I can't lose you - Just not." 

Castiel was about to say something, anything that would calm Dean, making sure he wasn't going anywhere. But then he felt Dean's on his lips, and the effort to say anything was gone. 

Castiel preferred this side of Dean's coin. Although ironically it was more painful than any blow Dean could physically give him. Dean often went to him, hidden under the cover of night, unseen by anyone. According to Castiel, everyone in the camp knew this, but he never said anything. After all, the nights Dean managed to be gentle with him and whisper his name into the night were his favorites. He loved them as much as his Heaven, and he did not want to lose them. 

And then it happened. In the fifth year, in one ordinary day. Castiel had his usual session with several girls, telling them about the meaning of life and the universe. It was an empty chatter, but it diverted his mind from the dark places. He was talking about something certainly deep when Dean appeared in the doorway of his cabin. Castiel, still a little high in his Heaven, and in a good mood last night with their leader, glanced quickly at Dean, sending the girls discreetly away. He ignored the usual remark about his lifestyle, after all, Dean wouldn't be Dean not to criticize him. But then he turned, looked at Dean, and froze. It was Dean, but he wasn't… Castiel sometimes wondered if Heaven was too much, but it never occurred to him as strongly as it does now. Interestingly… 

Dean from the past? Castiel had to laugh, though apparently no one around understood why he was laughing. Such an irony. With this Dean, all the things he had been trying to forget for so long had returned to Castiel. On the one hand, he couldn't stand the caring look this Dean was sending him across the room while the current Dean was talking to them. But he was looking forward to the other one. He hadn't felt anyone's interest in that long, especially Dean's. And this Dean, it wasn't the monster that could do anything to defeat Lucifer. No, this was Castiel's Dean, the Dean with a pure soul he had always loved so much. And for whom he always did anything. Even that he ended the way he ended. 

The current Dean stood at the table, outlining a future plan to kill Lucifer, showing on a map where Lucifer was supposed to be. Castiel felt the other Dean's presence behind him, and his frustration when he learned of the torture. Castiel had to laugh at the sweet innocence. He hadn't seen it in so long. He even brazenly cut off the current Dean, who was staring at him angrily across the table. The end was approaching, and things could not get worse. And then came the usual question, so common, that cost Castiel so much. 

"Will you come with me?" 

"Of course." 

"Hey… Cas?" 

Castiel stopped packing his weapons, strangely curious looking at the past Dean, who was staring at him with such a thrilling mixture of guilt and questions that if Castiel were able to feel anything else… 

"Yes?" 

"What happened to me? With me… With you? ” 

Castiel looked around, noticing the other Dean watching them closely. 

"I think it would be better to wait for the journey. This does not seem to be a good time. " 

And indeed. As soon as he finished the sentence, the current Dean nodded at him and then nodded at Castiel's cabin. 

"I'll meet you at the car," Castiel smiled, handing the last Dean a bag. "I have something to do." 

"Do you know what happens?" 

"Do you think you're leading us to death?" 

"How do you know?" 

"I've known you for so long…" 

"You won't say anything about it?" 

"No - It can't end otherwise. It was supposed to be clear to me when Sam said yes. " 

"I'm sorry." 

Castiel had to laugh at the weak apology for everything he had been through. For going to his death now, for leading others to it. And why? For Dean? 

"You never apologized." 

Instead of an answer came a kiss, which Castiel tried to remember to the last detail. 

After all, it was the last. 

Past Dean was so curious. But Castiel no longer had the strength to answer him, to retell his miserable past. He said little, all wrapped up in a package of laughter that wasn't really cheerful at all, but it didn't matter. It was still better than the pain he was beginning to feel whenever he thought of the end of their journey at the edge of his mind. 

"Cas?" 

"Hm?" 

"Why did you stay with us until now?" 

Castiel didn't know what to say. But even his silence seemed to be the answer for the last Dean. 

They split up. The Deans headed for the back of the building, Castiel leading the rest of the people to the other side. He noticed the look, full of sadness and strange horror the last Dean had given him before he left. He seemed to have figured out what the plan was. But Castiel shook his head. It didn't matter anymore. As they entered the dark factory hall, practically nothing mattered. After all, it was just another order from Dean. Castiel had to laugh when the gunfire rang out and people started screaming. And he laughed to the end until he lay on the ground and waited for his laughter to drown in blood.


End file.
